My Son
by Happyface 72
Summary: They're dead. He felt his world come crashing down upon him like a wave ready to engulf his very being. But what if Legolas's son still lived?It has tourture, be warned R&R PLEASE!THIS IS GOING TO BE REDONE And actually finished SOON!
1. Prologue

**Ion-nin**

Disclaimer: I only own Ruscion. Mr. Tolkein owns the rest.

Rating: PG-13 because of pain from torture. Hope you don't get queasy…

Author's Note: Hi!!! Wow, my second fanfic! I feel so PROUD!! Hope you like it! By the way, this is before LOTR. At lest the prologue is.

'…' thoughts

ion-nin means my son in ?elvish or Sidarion? spelling?

Ada means father or dad in elvish.

-----------------PROLOGUE----------------

Sitting by his mahogany desk, a tall golden haired elf was thinking of the many ways to avoid his paperwork. Perhaps his son would come bounding in wanting to play. 'Hopefully they'll be back from their walk soon.'

A loud rat-tat-tat sounded at the door to the study, and abruptly awoke him from his thoughts. 'Oh, good, right in the nick of time.' He gracefully stood up and crossed the room to the door. With slender fingers the elf turned the bras knob, awaiting the lovely smile from his wife or the musical laughter of his boy.

But the only person he found on the other side of the door was a lone guard, captain of the guards to be precise. "Sir, there is some grave news for you. It concerns your family. The King wishes to speak with you in the throne room."

Quickly walking down the brightly lit corridors, he wondered what was so important that his own farther had to tell him. The only thought coursing through his mind was 'What happened?'.

Silently he stepped in the huge room, not paying the slightest attention to the group of elven soldiers whispering around the marble fireplace. He rushed over to his ada who was shakily standing to meet him.

"Oh, ion-nin, it-it's Ninniachel and Ruscion. They're dead."

He felt his world come crashing down upon him like a tumbling wave ready to engulf his entire being. Wishing that it was just a nightmare, he slid to the cold floor on his knees. A lone thought raced through his mind 'How?' but he couldn't seem to form words. So he sat, waiting for himself to wake up and everything to be just the way it should.

"My son, my Legolas." Thranduil repeated, hugging his son to his chest, letting out silent tears now and then.

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Ok, How was that?? Did you like it? Please Review! It would be very helpful if you did! Well, Yawn, Goodnight!


	2. Suffering

**Reviews:**

**Twinsboy13:** Thank you! I'm happy you like this one! I see you got up your story! HAPPY NEW YEAR! Read what Greg wanted Ruscion to do (its in hideho's review answer) Lol

**Hideho: **Wow! I didn't expect to hear from you! Did you have a good Christmas? Greg had some funny ideas for this story, he wanted Ruscion to choke on a pingpong ball and die. LOL! interesting huh?

**Hearts Corruption**: Oh joy!! I'm so glad you liked it! Let's see if you'll like the plot… **;-)**

**ALT( ): **No, come on… tell me what you really think! **:-(** I do understand already that I am not the best writer here. I am just disappointed that I did not rise to your expectations. At least now I can get better…sigh… AND Legolas's father is a very busy man, but he gets along well with his son. Just because he can't see him often doesn't mean Thranduil doesn't love him.

**Author's Note: Hi! I uploaded another chapter!!! Yay! Thank you reviewers! Even the ones that killed my last chapter… Hope you will enjoy!! Let's get on with the horr-... I mean Tourt-.... No no, I ment to say uhh.... Happiness! NOT!**

_**Italics are thoughts**_

**Adar means (in Sidarian) Father.**

**Ion-nin means (in Sidarian) my son.**

**Daro means stop.**

**Saes maens please.**

**--------------------20 some years later----------------**

"No! Daro, daro! Saes!" His cries would do nothing but echo throughout the narrow corridors. Bouncing off the dirty stone walls and making the beautifuly sad pleas sound like long moans.

"Stop yelling that rubbish! You'll get no mercy from us!" With that, a broad-shouldered man took his item of choice out of the fire. The long lean poker, its tip gleaming crimson, cast odd shadows upon Ruscion's paling face. Sweat started to bead between his shoulder blades and slid slowly down his boney back._ They won't stop this time. I've gone too far. And it's all my fault. _If's would do him no good now, and apoligizing to the enemy? Ha! They would never listen for none of them care.

"Gettin' scared, are ya?" He laughed at the small whimpers and futile attempts to break free of the chains that bound the young elf to the gray stone cell wall. He waved the poker right in front of Ruscion's perfectly shaped, thin, nose. The captain immensely enjoyed the fear radiating out from the elf. _It was my own fault, and now I will be punished. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. _The captain's yellowing teeth appeared under chapped lips, he was goiong to enjoy every second of this. To break an elf was hard work, but when it happened it was like letting water out of a dam. The creature's soul would pour out, it's screams never ending.

"You deserve every minute of this! You need to learn your place; you're just a little maggot here! Am I right?" to the many jeers of the small group that had gathered to watch. He firmly gripped the burning poker and brought it down upon the young elf's slender hands, the hands that would grasp the bow and sword, the hands that could have made his adar proud. They now seared with pain, making him cry out in a short sharp gasp. The smell of burnt skin filled the small cell and wafted out into the winding corridors, making him feel like he would empty what little food was in his stomach.

His usually mischievous ebony eyes were screwed up in agony . Tears fell and landed on the many blackening bruises that covered his bony figure. Dirty flaxen chin length hair fell in front of his face, hiding what little tears remained of those he had already shed. In a different situation Ruscion would have been disgusted to have shown weakness, but now he only wanted the pain to cease. The only thought that he held onto for dear life was ' Adar will save me.' But he knew it would not be so; he had been waiting for thirty odd years. Nobody would ever release him from this foul prison.

The burns now ran up Ruscion's arms and shoulders. The thin shirt had not given him protection against the poker. He wished desperately for the bliss of unconsciousness. Sick-minded fiends dared to sneer in the face of the young elf, laughing at his pain like it was a game. Revenge would feel so sweet when it came time. But now he was just waiting for it to all end; he wasn't ready to feel the pain that was soon to come.

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Hollow steps echoed through the long, seemingly never ending hallway. His cerulean eyes were empty of any emotion, and absentmindedly followed the pattern of forest green tiles upon the floor. Long fingers played with the thin slender trinket in his tan trouser pocket. His feet had carried him to the intricately carved mahogany door which he silently opened and entered.

Legolas could feel the room's memories erupting from every corner, flooding to him. Now he wished he hadn't come. This room had been his son's not long ago, for an elf at lest. Everything was just as it had been, even the olive colored tunic with the hole in the sleeve hadn't moved from it's place, absent mindedly tossed on the small firm bed. The only new objects in the room were dust, and a deep empty feeling that hadn't been there while Ruscion was alive. Dust covered everything, the many folklore books on the shelves lining the walls, the small chest that had been opened in haste many years ago, and the intricately carved bow he had once used before...

_No use dwelling on the past. Things come and go with the time; you of all elves should know that. _Fleetingly he took out the small object and placed it lovingly in the wooden chest. The item was a thin dagger no bigger than Legolas's hand span, with a charred bone handle. The blade its self hadn't been damaged and still gleamed in the sunlight that streamed into the bedroom. There was no doubt that this dagger wasn't his son's; the symbols of leaves and foxes intertwined on the blade were also on many of his most treasured possessions.

N_othing more can be done._ Latching the chest shut, a lone tear slid down his tired face.

**That's all! Did ya like it?? hate it ? too sadistic? I would like to know... If you don't like don't read. I have know Idea when I will update soooo, check back sometime late feb. marchish. Bye! :-) **


	3. Punishment

I'm Back! I know i haven't uploaded for a long time, but now that i don't have writer's blocki'll upload chpts faster!

Thanks to all who reviewed!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Ruscion!

Slowly rising from his place on the floor, Legolas stood up and crossed to the door. Legolas looked at the empty room, nothing more than despair and memories filled this place. When he left Ruscion's bedroom, he quickly shut the door as if he wanted to keep the memories locked up in there forever. Now the tears that had once been pent up streamed down his face. He reached up hurriedly with a long fingered hand and brushed them aside. _It does me no good to cry. I just need to get over it._

Taking in a shaky breath he walked off towards the gardens, leaving memories of his son in that room to be forgotten.

* * *

"I 'ope you 'aven't forgotten your special punishment 'ave you?" bellowed a massive, bearded man to Ruscion's deathly pale face. Ruscion paled even more if that was possible, turning a light gray-green._ Valar! Father! Please help me! Please…_Ruscion started to faint, slumping against the iron bonds that held him in place against the damp stone wall. **Slap! **Ruscion's head snapped to the side and banged into the stone wall brutally waking him up. 

" Come now, you dina think you could miss this treat did you?" laughed the man who had hit him. He undid the chains that held Ruscion, and threw him at the mocking crowd of putrid men that had clamored around the large fire pit, trying to get a good place to watch the fun. Somebody grabbed a chunk of flaxen hair and shook him violently as if Ruscion was no longer an elf, but a rag-doll. The elf's vision swam and blurred in and out of focus.

"Now, on your knees, wretch!" Throwing Ruscion to the dirt floor in front of the fire pit, the crimson flames licked at his face all too eagerly. The broad shouldered captain grabbed his hair again and dragged his gaunt face close to the inferno.

"No! Please don't! Stop!" Ruscion cried trying to squirm out of the sturdy grip of the captain, only a bark of cold laugher answered his pleas.

"You like the fire, maggot-boy? " Growled the captain, letting the fire just graze Ruscion's slender jaw. The elf yelped and jerked back to roars of harsh laughter. A thin burn appeared, turning crimson, curving up from his jaw to meet his chapped lips.

"Ha! The fire likes you, don't it, boy?" the captain asked, running a gloved finger over the burn. Ruscion gasped and recoiled on the soiled floor, wishing that he would be forgotten or swallowed up by the earth under him.

Seizing a short thin piece of scorching iron out of the flames, the burly captain shoved it at the elf's face. The elf just shuddered and pressed his head further down to avoid the heat. But the man had other plans, he grabbed the scruff of Ruscion's neck and pulled him up on his feet as if he weighed nothing. Forcing Ruscion to look up at him, he held him, Ruscion's feet barley skimming the ground.

While the elf struggled to breathe, the man asked, venom dripped from his every words" Was what you did to Thorin wrong?"

"Yes." Ruscion gasped out more frightened now that when the man had yelled at him.

The captain nodded mocking him. "Yes, Do you know what we do to punish little worms like yourself?" when he received no reply, the captain bellowed, "We put their eyes out!" before Ruscion was able to cry out protest, the captain jabbed the iron pole into his ebony eyes. He cried as pain exploded in Ruscion's eyes and his vision left him.

* * *

"Now Legolas, I will not be argued with. You are not going on an orc killing fest with the border patrol. You'll get yourself killed!" A disgruntled Thraduil pinched the bridge of his Roman nose. He had been arguing with Legolas for a good hour. The once long candle sticks now burned low casting off a faint flickering light against the lavishly decorated library, showing grand tapestries depicting great battles. Towering bookcases filled with both old tomes and new philosophies lined the grand room and gave off an air of knowledge and superiority. 

_Just goes to show how much a king's word is worth, 'not be argued with' right. _Legolas thought." I will not be killed, and I _can't _stay here doing nothing while good elves are being killed!" Legolas's sapphire eyes flashed with mingled anger and exasperation.

"No, no I will not let yourself get killed just because you feel like you have nothing to lose!" As soon as the king shouted these words he wished he could take them back. Legolas looked as though he had been hit, his father had mercifully avoided talking about his son and wife, but he knew that he was right. He _wanted _to die.

"My son, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't hav-"

"No you're right."

"Listen, I will send you away. Perhaps you could go as my proxy to a council in Rivendell, you would leave the day after tomorrow." The king hoped he would say yes, and get his mind off of things…

Legolas bowed stiffly, complied with his father's wishes, and left the room.

_Valor, he can be such a hand full sometimes_, thought Thranduil

* * *

Ok, that's all for now! review and fell free to give suggestions! 


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